


Drop The Facade

by Ozuzo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, Earth C (Homestuck), Fanart, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Introspection, M/M, Nightmares, The Homestuck Epilogues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozuzo/pseuds/Ozuzo
Summary: Jake spends a sleepless night musing about everything that went wrong, but he unexpectedly finds comfort in the company of the sleeping boy beside him.
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Drop The Facade

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The late lights of the night weakly filtered into the mansion's foyer through the stained glass. 

Dirk and Jake were sprawled out in an over the top—deceitfully cheap looking—velvet couch after a wild make out session reminiscent of their past—and more times than not disastrous—romantic endeavors. Nothing out of the ordinary for them. Although they were no longer together and Dirk had insisted that their relationship should remain strictly platonic (which he had assuredly agreed to), sometimes they inexplicably wound up tangled together in a mess of limbs and disheveled clothes not unlike the one they happened to be in at the moment. 

Dirk was out cold, his shades concealing his expression even in his sleep, but Jake was wide awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. His thoughts swarmed about his head in an erratic manner, overwhelming even. The truth was that most things overwhelmed Jake English. He had almost mastered the art of ignoring his problems until they were completely out of hand and exploded in his face or—even better, waited until someone else took it in their own hands to resolve them for him. A part of him was well aware that he had fabricated this facade of obliviousness to shield himself from any responsibility and subsequent or otherwise probable pain, but it was so deeply ingrained in his sense of self that he himself had fallen for it.

But those were not the thoughts that were stopping him from falling asleep that particular night, no. He had instead let his mind recollect every single event that had led to this specific moment of non clarity, nostalgia and existential dread. He sure had landed on it plump derrière first, trademarked English grin second, like he was known to do. Maybe it had been childish of him to believe that life on Earth C would be like an adventure from his favorite movies, or maybe he just had pictured himself in the wrong role all along. He was no James Bond or Indiana Jones. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he classified as a proper sidekick or love interest! He feared he had become the flat eye candy character, the kind that's supposed to be pretty and compliant and nothing much else. His friends saw him like that too, did they not? He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he had started drifting away from them, but it felt as if there was a bigger barrier than there had ever been between them before. And that was quite the statement considering he had spent his early years completely isolated from the outer world on an equally remote and deadly island in the Pacific; time and space physically separating him from the people he had loved the most. 

He froze for a second, _had_? No, that wasn't right, he did love his friends. Adored, even! They had gone through so much stuff together that it was hard to summarize it coherently or at all. They had sacrificed _everything_ for this well deserved happy-ever-after, yet he couldn't find it in his heart to be his jolly old self. Maybe he was just a bit under the weather, maybe he just needed some time out to gather his thoughts and breathe. Away from expectations, away from pressure. Away from everyone. Specially away from _him_. 

As if prompted by that thought, the blond shifted, untangling his legs from his and turning around, his back coming into contact with Jake's chest as he brought his knees closer to his own. He let out an unintelligible breathy sound then became still again. Jake turned his head slightly to look at him, careful not to disturb his sleep. From his position and with his trusty glasses out of reach he couldn't make out much of him, but rather perceive. Dirk's shoulders rose and fell rhythmically with every breath, his hands were comfortably clasped together over his heart. He looked peaceful.

The sight brought Jake back to his previous musing. _Dirk Strider_ , the man behind his every uncertainty. Hot and cold, that fella, one minute he seemed to burn a hole through him with his fiery eyes and undivided attention, the next he was merely there. His mind never stopped in one place, it was never idle. He knew he wasn't the only one that struggled to keep pace with him, but it did not bring the solace he sought whatsoever.

They had known each other for years now, in the past he had been confident that he would—that he _could—_ eventually crack that hermetic shell of his and make his way through the layers of irony and self hatred and find the _real_ Dirk, the one that was so elusive ever since their teenager years. Always hidden behind a pair of triangular shades, behind an auto-responder, behind whatever calculating replica of himself he had managed to pour himself into. But he could not for the life of him blame his friend, not entirely, because he was no different. He put on a bright and idiotic exterior for everyone to see while everything changed around him. Change, he had come to realize, was not something he adapted well to or even welcomed. It scared him that everything that he had believed to be true could crumble any minute, that he wasn't the person he thought he was. 

He had his fair share of faults and regrets, a pile of unresolved insecurities from his past that haunted him to this day. Becoming a public figure, a socialite, a TV star and a god acclaimed by the masses had proven to be easier than confronting Jane, Roxy or Dirk. He had also had a hard time approaching the others since it all had ended, or begun? Did it really make a difference? Jade and John had both certainly provided him with most enjoyable company at given times, but in the end they also had their own issues to tend to. That seemed to be the case with everyone; they just seemed so focused and grown up, they all had found something to devote themselves to, be it their careers or newfound domestic lifes. He, on the other hand… He was lost. No amount of fame or fans could drown out that feeling, every silly affair he involved himself in was but a distraction. He wanted to run away from it all, how could anything ever be like the old days? 

Yes, escaping was second nature to him. It was at times like this when he realized how dishonest he really was; even in the safety of his own mind he would not be held responsible for his actions. All he had ever done was to blame others for his misfortune, it was never him, _but_ his lack of perception, his upbringing, whatever external factor he could think of. He'd rather make a fort out of excuses and blame shifting than come to terms with reality. But even his strongest make-believe would not atone for the fact that being alone was—if ever so slightly—less difficult than listening and apologizing, than admitting the hurt he had caused. Was it him that had set his relationships up for failure from the start? 

His thoughts came full circle like a frisbee, back to Dirk. He pulled him in like a magnet and he let himself be engulfed by his charm every single time, without fail. It was not untrue that the Strider could be overbearing, all over him—controlling even—but he didn't exactly loathe it. There was some comfort in having his path laid out in front of him, his head empty of choices. It was the space, however, that he was most concerned about, or rather, the lack of it. If only he had been more straightforward about needing to be left alone, if only they had let their facades drop and talked heart to heart… Things would have been different. That, he was sure of. 

He knew Dirk took most of the blame for their problems and eventual break up. He seemed to have an innate flair for the tragic, as he had demonstrated time and time again. He did not know if he took pleasure in antagonizing himself or if it was his particular way of coping, but it made him feel remorseful all the same. He couldn't help but wonder what was going through that messy head of his; knowing him, he had probably given these questions some thought as well. But then again, the pride he had once taken in being able to decipher Dirk's stoic personality and mannerisms was now a distant memory. Had they become strangers? 

At this point he acknowledged the lump that had been forming in his throat during his ceaseless rumination, it was hard not to, really. At least it felt better than the numbness that had become a regular in his chest, at least it was a _feeling_. He sighed, he must have been deep in thought for hours because the first lights of day had timidly started dancing around the room. 

Again, like clockwork, as if sensing his inner struggle, Dirk flinched. This time there was a certain urgency to it, he had been so engrossed by his thoughts that he had not noticed his companion's breath hitching. Was he awake? A low whimper followed by a flailing arm answered that question for him. No, he was having a nightmare. 

Completely caught off guard, Jake did not immediately react, instead his eyes widened as he heard the agitated noises and trashing rapidly escalate. Dirk spread out his arms in the air like a drowning man; one of his hands blindly searched for something to grab onto and found Jake's arm, which was enough to spring him into action. He sat up in one motion, leaning in and attempting to jolt him out of the dream to no avail. He tried to call out his name, but his voice didn't come through after hours of silence. He uttered a curse under his breath and cleared his throat, unconsciously clawing at his shoulders. 

"Dirk!" he repeated now audibly, vigorously shaking the boy. **"Dirk!"** After what felt like an eternity he finally stilled under his hands, although he was pretty much out of breath and sweating profusely. He couldn't see him opening his eyes, but the deep frown in his face had practically melted away and he could _feel_ his confused stare. 

"Jake?" he asked quietly, his tone—much like his body—was unsteady. He sounded incredibly small. 

"Oh golly, you gave me quite the fright there, chum! Are you okay?" The response wasn't immediate, he could almost hear Dirk's heart throbbing in the stillness of the room as he registered what had just happened. He was dripping with sweat, panic visible in his expression. He seemed to be stalling for time to gather himself. 

"Yeah man, grand," he finally offered with the hint of a smile. Way too soon, way too forced. Was he that scared of being vulnerable in front of him? 

"Dirk… You were having a bad dream."

"I'm well aware, yeah. I noticed." There it went, the last drop of sincerity down the drain. "Can't a simple man blissfully partake in some good old night terrors without his manbro of choice interrupt-" Jake wouldn't stand for it, he cut him off by pulling him closer, the blond's face now buried deep in the crook of his neck. He protested, but didn't move. 

"I was worried about you, you dingus!" Jake said softly, purposefully tightening his arms around Dirk's back. He fleetingly—and rather awkwardly—escaped his strong grip to return the hug properly and they both fell silent. He noticed Dirk's breath steadying, his beats becoming slower. Only then did Jake realize how tired he was, how easy it'd be to drift off into sleep cradled in those lanky freckled arms… 

"Not to break this epic bro lovin' moment we're having, Jake," he started, doing _precisely_ that. "But I should probably go. It's morning already." The brunette could feel the hesitation in his voice, his body language did not match his words. 

"You could catch some more z's… If you wanted. It's still early," he said as casually as he possibly could. He had done it again, the bastard, hijacking his reason without even trying, but he was too confused to fight against it. 

"Right," he paused. "Might actually take you up on that offer." Jake was clearly not expecting a yes for an answer, he found himself at a loss of words. So much so that he pulled away just to gawk at him. "What? You know billionaire extraordinaire billboard appearing himbos are my one and only weakness—my personal Achilles heel, if you will. Especially at the instance of my face being smothered between said individual's massive tits. I'm sweating a little here, to be honest."

Jake let out a sigh, but it bore no real ill will. Dirk sure was underplaying the seriousness of the situation in favor of appearing collected, but he was not running away. They both knew they were standing at a crossroad, not wanting to cross the line, but not wanting to pull away either. Maybe that was what frightened Dirk, he must have been weighing up just how much he could ask of him, if anything.

"So, we're just gonna sit here or…?" 

"Oh, shut your trap, Strider!" he feigned irritation, but his goofy grin—that the other could not see—gave him away. Not that he minded looking foolish at the moment; for the first time in months he felt like Dirk was really there with him.

Without warning, Dirk fell back onto the couch, dragging him along. Now that the darkness had started to retreat into the shadows and their faces were mere inches apart Jake could _really_ see him. His light hair clinging to his face, his brow that was no longer furrowed, his slightly curved lips, the freckles that powdered his beautiful angular features. He could even catch a glimpse of his eyes under the dark shades. They were fixated on him. A shiver ran down his spine. 

"C-Can I take them off?" he stuttered. "Your shades?" 

"Yeah," he allowed, gently. 

He shilly-shallied, but reached for them nonetheless, feeling like any wasted second could shatter the illusion. He followed the motion with his eyes as if it weren't his own hands moving. He then neatly placed the valued item next to his earlier discarded glasses, on the telephone table. That looked positively domestic, he noted mentally. 

Even though he had been the one to ask for it, he found himself reluctant to face the blond, he might not have been ready for it after all. Would he catch fire if he looked into the orange eyes that were surely on him? What kind of expression would he have on? 

Dirk coughed uncomfortably. _Right_ , it was as much of a big deal for him as it was for Jake. He had obviously seen him without his shades on before, but the intimacy of it still felt unfamiliar and thrilling. He mustered the courage to raise his head, if only to let Dirk know that he wanted to go through with it. Their gazes instantly locked and for a split second Jake forgot the troubles in his mind, the doubts, the pain.

There was yearning in there. No harshness, no judgement, no machinations, just pure yearning. He felt drowsy. 

Dirk hesitantly closed the tiny distance that separated them so that their foreheads were touching, still looking into his eyes. Jake's hands absent-mindedly traveled up to the base of his neck as a response, his fingers softly tracing the contours of his nape. Dirk's eyelids fluttered shut at the touch. 

"Damn, that feels good," he mumbled to himself. He sank deeper into the couch, slipping away from Jake to rest his head on his chest and sliding an arm over his waist. Jake followed the lead, propping himself up a little to accommodate the other and allowing his hands to wander along his pale skin once more. Then there was silence. 

Minutes went by and—now that Dirk wasn't talking or fully occupying his attention—Jake couldn't help relapsing in his preceding train of thought. _See_? He kept thinking about him, it was like static noise interfering with his regular stream of thoughts. He couldn't turn it off, he couldn't understand it. It was not much unpleasant as it was disorienting. He couldn't put a name to the feelings he _specifically_ harbored for him and it was scary. It was scary not only because he had built a big chunk of his identity around him, but also because he couldn't tell to what extent he had been deceitful. There was no question that he had just gone with the current at the beginning, moldable as ever, but he did cherish Dirk in ways that he did not cherish others. That had to count for something. Was it selfish of him to want that kind of familiarity without daring to call it love? He was too much to handle, yet not having him left a bitter and empty aftertaste in his mouth. 

The look that Dirk had in his eyes earlier had made things more complicated in his mind. Fortunately he came to a standstill at the realization that his partner had fallen asleep again. His breath was warm and stuffy on his chest, his stomach nimbly pulsated atop Jake's ribcage and his hands felt damp and heavy on his waist. He looked down and saw that at no time had his fingers stopped rubbing his back and neck, even if he hadn't been aware of it. Was it his fondling that had lulled him to sleep? Gee, he couldn't deny the satisfaction that this notion—that having this sort of power over him—brought him. 

Now that he really paid attention to it, Dirk's weight was grounding, the heat that emanated from him reassuring. If he concentrated hard enough on that feeling, everything else fell out of focus. He suddenly felt much lighter. Why was he thinking so much? He couldn't remember where all that distress had come from in the first place or why he had felt the urge to go through it in one night. How silly of him had that been in retrospect! That didn't make his feelings any less real, but it did shed light upon their relativity. 

He let himself indulge in how Dirk's body felt against his own with newfound direction. He listened to the unconstrained noises that escaped him, to the soft rustling that skin on skin resulted in. His slumbering self was notably easier to read than his awakened one, there was no pretense or decoding taking place, it was just… A pleasant heaviness, a scent he was at home with. A tangy and refreshing quality to it that intermingled with the faint smell of his hair gel—what was left of it at least. He directed his attention to that. A couple of stray strands of softened hair brushed against his collarbone as he breathed, they tickled, sending tiny jolts of pleasure through him. His sharp cheekbones poked against him, but he wasn't bothered by it. Most things relating to Dirk had pointy edges and he had come to appreciate that fact. 

He concerned himself with those hands that were on him, were they getting colder? He pressed his fingers flat against Dirk's bare shoulder and arm to confirm his suspicion. He proceeded to cautiously make a lunge for a blanket that was conveniently located in the back pillows of the couch, next to a bunch of pieces of clothing they had hastily disposed of in the spur of the moment hours prior. He felt his cheeks light up at the memory. It was embarrassing how hungry they were for each other's touch and kisses. What a mess they had made of themselves. Oh yeah, _the blanket_. He laid it out over them both, tucking Dirk in, who hummed in his sleep, making Jake beam.

His mind was filled with him, but he welcomed it this time, allowing those bodily sensations to take over his worries and concerns. 

In a way, it gave him hope, all was not lost yet. Perhaps he could let his friends know how he felt; perhaps he could share that burden and realize that everyone else was stumbling their way into adulthood much like he was. Maybe he would find the strength to stay through that turmoil of emotions instead of taking off, or maybe he'd announce he needed to be alone for a bit to figure himself out. In any case, it would not be permanent. 

As for Dirk, despite him consistently being the one thing that overwhelmed him the most, despite not knowing how he fit in the bigger picture or where they stood as they were—and he suspected that it would be the riddle that had no answer—being beside him felt right, it felt enough. They'd lay out their cards on the table and work something out one day. 

He could not longer carry on with his introspection; his eyes felt too heavy and his brain too light. He buried his chin on Dirk's hair and exhaled, his body pressing against his muscles, every shape of him tangible. He nuzzled up against him—leaving as little space as he could between their frames—and contentedly drifted off shortly after. 


End file.
